Ayem, Seht, Vehk
by Iskeirka
Summary: The College of Winterhold is a strange place filled with even stranger people. When Brelyna Maryon, only a new apprentice herself, meets fellow student Delvana Uvirith, she is plunged into a world of ancient myth, history, adventure and secrets, struggling to stay aloft, stay alive, and still complete her studies.
1. Chapter 1

The new apprentice, Brelyna decided, was odd. Very odd. The way she moved and spoke was foreign, almost archaic. This was to mention nothing of her dress sense, which seemed to involve as many layers and as much jewellery as possible. The smallest gust of wind sent the necklaces and bracelets swaying, tinkling like a wind chime. How the other Dunmer managed to keep her long white hair from tangling on the innumerable straps and buckles of her outfit, Brelyna had no idea, and she doubted she ever would. The Dunmer woman was stoic, unreadable and intimidating, and her face had a strangely ageless quality about it. Though she looked to be in her mid-twenties, the white hair and faded red eyes attested otherwise.

At any rate, all this hardly mattered, as Brelyna hadn't even said a word to her. The other woman had strode into the Hall of the Elements, confident as you please, right in the middle of Tolfdir's lecture, merely waving one oddly-gauntleted hand at him to continue, the metal glinting in the blue light. Brelyna had never seen armour like that, either. It was obviously Dwemer in make, but much more ornate than anything she'd come across, and fitted her hand like it was made for her, rather than scavenged from a ruin. Tearing her eyes away, Brelyna tried to focus on Tolfdir once more, knowing it would be best to make a good impression on the lecturers.

Ten minutes later found her just as distracted as before. Tolfdir had called the newcomer forward to demonstrate a basic ward, and while the spell was simple enough, the sheer power that emanated from the woman was overwhelming. It tasted of hot ash and had a woodsy, almost fungus-like smell with just a hint of salt, and the Dunmer woman just stood there casually while Tolfdir flung fireballs at her, holding the ward longer than Brelyna knew she could manage. The smell of her magicka clung to her nostrils for hours afterwards.

Once the lecture ended, Brelyna made a beeline for the strange woman, intent on at least asking her name. The other apprentices still stood there uncertainly, at a loss for what to do, but the Dunmer strode from the hall with the same energy as she entered, sweeping through the snow piled on the walkway outside and into the Hall of Attainment, throwing her satchel down on one of the beds. Brelyna followed hesitantly, putting down her own bag in the small alcove she now owned, before standing awkwardly next to the warm central flame, watching how the violent light turned her skin an even more vibrant shade.

"I'm afraid I didn't catch your name," Brelyna said, looking up at the woman. She was sitting on her own bed, gazing back with a strange intensity, a mixture of curiosity, weariness and distrust in her gaze.

"Delvana Uvirith," she replied, her voice low and slightly raspy, coloured with a thick accent Brelyna hadn't heard before. "And what is your name, sera?"

"Brelyna Maryon," the apprentice responded. Delvana's eyes widened almost imperceptibly, and Brelyna wondered what had bothered her. "Why did you call me 'sera'?" she asked, frowning in confusion. The word sounded vaguely familiar, like she had read it somewhere and forgotten the meaning.

Delvana shook her head, sending her long white hair flying, and she combed it over her shoulder irritably to braid it. "A habit, I suppose, and a formality long forgotten."

Brelyna shifted uncomfortably, trying to find a line between friendly conversation and intrusion of privacy. "So where is your accent from? It's not one I've heard," she inquired, grasping for a change in conversation.

"Vvardenfell," Delvana answered. Brelyna raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue, but she remained silent.

"I thought Vvardenfell was destroyed almost two centuries ago, and almost no one survived," she responded, scepticism colouring her voice. She winced internally at the accusatory tone.

The other Dunmer gave her a withering stare in response, face as hard and cold as a glacier. "That is not a fact you need remind me of, girl," she said, each word harsh and grating. Then she sighed, tying off her braid with a flick of her wrist. "I apologise. It is all in the past, now, and you cannot know what it was like for those of us who were there."

Brelyna gave her a flat stare, and the other woman gazed back, seemingly unconcerned by the scrutiny. "So you were there?"

"Yes."

"On an island that was practically destroyed over two centuries ago?"

"That much is indeed obvious."

"By the Eight, you're _old._" The icy stare she got in response was all the eloquence Delvana needed. "I- I mean, you certainly don't look it!" Brelyna exclaimed, frantically trying to fix her slip up. "I'm sorry, but words just tumble out of my mouth sometimes, and I know it sounds horribly rude, but I-"

And then she laughed. Brelyna trailed off, fidgeting awkwardly. "What? What did I say?" she asked, utterly bemused.

Delvana sighed, shaking her head. "You don't think to question what happened on Vvardenfell, or how I escaped, but instead remark upon my _age _like it is something significant. I've known wizards who have lived for well over four thousand years, one of whom was my dear friend, so forgive me if I don't feel quite as old as you think I am."

Brelyna raised an eyebrow. "Four thousand? Really?"

"They were Telvanni," Delvana replied with a shrug. "Need I say more?"

Brelyna laughed. "No, no you don't. Some of my ancestors were Telvanni, and I've heard some rather interesting stories. They say the old magisters knew how to extend their lifespan indefinitely, and if what you say is true, I might just believe it."

"I certainly believed Divayth when he mentioned his age. I don't know how he managed it, though. The Telvanni are – were, I mean – a secretive bunch, even when I was archmagister," Delvana sighed. "But no, even then I was still an outlander."

Brelyna stared, wide-eyed, not quite believing what she had heard. "Did you just say you're the archmagister of House Telvanni?" she asked, barely able to summon more than a whisper.

Delvana froze, face shifting to careful blankness. Then she nodded, barely more than a slight incline of her head, before turning to fiddle with one of the soul gems that lay on her bedside table.

"What are you even _doing _here?" Brelyna demanded, gesturing at the empty apprentice hall. "You can't have risen to the top of House Telvanni by sheer luck. I felt your magicka earlier, and it had more power than I've ever seen. By all rights you should at least be a teacher here, if not arch-mage yourself, not a mere apprentice!"

Delvana sighed, shifting from the edge of her bed and coming to stand next to Brelyna, holding her hands to the purple flame. "I wanted to escape from politics and expectations. After everything that happened on Vvardenfell, after everything I messed up... When Red Mountain erupted, I knew it was my chance to start a new life, away from anyone that would recognise me. I'm no politician. I came to Vvardenfell an outlander, and to them I would always be that n'wah that murdered and sabotaged her way to the top."

There was a silence for a while. Brelyna had no idea how to respond, even though she wanted to comfort the quiet, broken woman next to her. "I can certainly understand wanting to escape from politics," she said hesitantly, "but I had no idea native Dunmer were so harsh on foreigners. It's a sad thing to hear."

Delvana let out a bitter, almost mocking laugh. "Oh, they were no worse than the Nords are now," she said with a wry smile. "Coming here was almost like first stepping foot on Vvardenfell all over again, only much colder."

Brelyna chuckled, "I know the feeling. I'm from Port Telvannis originally, and though apparently it's not as hot as Vvardenfell used to be, coming to Skyrim was a shock."

"I can certainly imagine," Delvana replied, a small smile creeping onto her face. "Why, the first time I went to Solstheim I had the shock of my life! Cold, snow, warring Imperials and Nords, infested with spriggans and werewolves... I daresay it's prepared me for Skyrim quite well."

Brelyna grinned along with the other Dunmer, not quite suppressing a giggle. They stood in silence for a moment, but it was companionable rather than awkward this time. There were a million questions she wanted to ask, all of them whirling around her mind like a leaf in a storm, shouting to be answered. However, there was one in particular that caught her attention.

"Do you know anything about the Nerevarine?" Brelyna almost missed the shadow that passed over Delvana's face, and even then it seemed more of a trick of the light. Still, something about the look the other woman gave her made her feel unsteady, and she hastily tried to explain herself. "I mean, from what you've said you must have been on Vvardenfell around the same time as her, right? It's not like I'm expecting you to have met her or anything, but you know how stories change over the years. Who knows how they've been exaggerated!" She laughed nervously, inwardly berating herself for the increase in pitch that betrayed her anxiety.

Delvana stared at her incomprehensibly for a moment, and it felt like the press of a mountain against her chest. Then all of a sudden it crumbled to dust, and she smiled brightly, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Oh, I know plenty of tales," she said, gesturing to one of the chairs in her room. The two Dunmer sat, and Delvana leaned forward, hands raised as if in readiness to cast a spell rather than tell a story.

"The Nerevarine came to Vvardenfell in 3E 427. It is said that she travelled aboard a prison ship, though no one knows what her crime was, and that Emperor Uriel himself had chosen to pardon her of her insurrections..."


	2. Chapter 2

Saarthal was intimidating. Even just standing outside the doors, at the bottom of the exterior excavation, Brelyna felt like a weight was pressing in on her. Something about these old Nordic barrows had always made her nervous, and this one happened to be one of the most important archaeological digs in history. Brelyna being Brelyna, she just _knew _that she was going to touch something she shouldn't, or knock something over, or break something important, because while she wasn't inherently clumsy, she got terribly shaky when she was nervous.

Wringing her hands, Brelyna glanced around the ruin, wondering why no one else had arrived yet. She had always liked being early to events, but surely Tolfdir at least would be here, seeing as he was the one taking them into this dark, foreboding ruin. Another glance confirmed that she was alone besides the whistle of the wind and the faint sounds of wildlife moving across the icy tundra.

She sat there for a while, intermittently conjuring fireballs for warmth and debating going just inside the entrance, when finally one of her fellow apprentices, J'zargo, showed up. Brelyna had barely spoken to the man, but during their lecture he had seemed confident, and too cocky for her liking. Neither of them made attempts at conversation, rather choosing to sit, Brelyna still playing with fireballs and J'zargo muttering about Skyrim weather.

They were in the same spot when Delvana showed up, heavily armed and with enough enchanted bits of jewellery hanging from her neck, wrists, ears and ankles to have supplied a small army. Strapped to one of her many belts was a dagger of ancient design, looking to be Dwemer in make, with a opaque blue blade and a brassy hilt spotted red by time. A staff was in one hand, silver with a twisting, snake-like head, and the odd gauntlet on the other. With a small smile for Brelyna and a nod to J'zargo, she swept over to the entrance of the ruin, looking for all of Mundas like a queen about to enter her palace. With a smirk and a grand gesture to the doorway, she simple said, "Shall we?" and entered.

"Shouldn't we wait for Tolfdir?" Brelyna asked, glancing around once more to see if anyone else had arrived.

"Trust me, I'm something of an expert on ancient ruins," Delvana scoffed, poking her head out of the door. "Are you scared?" It was an honest question, asked without the teasing undertone that Brelyna would have expected.

"Hah! You know what Morrowind is like, all ancient tombs and rampant undead, but this is an excavation site. I wouldn't really know what to do," she confessed. "I'm scared I might break something important."

Delvana tapped a finger on her chin, clearly trying to hold back a smile. "Truth be told, I don't know either. Every time I've been in a tomb or a ruin or anything of the sort, it's usually been crawling with undead, daedra or various other critters. Perhaps we _should _wait for the person who actually knows what he's doing." With that, she pranced over to Brelyna's side, collapsing on the cold stone with an easy grace that the other woman envied.

"Cowards," J'zargo muttered, arms folded and tail twitching.

"Well, you're welcome to go in ahead of us," Brelyna retorted, "nothing's stopping you."

The Khajiit had opened his mouth, irritation plastered all over his place, when Tolfdir arrived, Onmund in tow, the apprentice looking decidedly unsettled. "Good to see you're all here," he said. "As you can see, we are among the ruins of Saarthal, which has been identified as the first Nordic settlement in Skyrim. Unless there are any questions, we can go inside." Tolfdir waited for a moment, gazing at the assembled students expectantly as they shifted, not quite knowing what to do under the heavy scrutiny. "Well then, let's head on in."

Brelyna felt oddly like a guar after that, herded around the ruin by Tolfdir, directed to look for any signs of warding magic among the crumbling architecture. Onmund and J'zargo both potter around, clearly wanting to be somewhere else – J'zargo practicing magic, probably, and Onmund just somewhere that wasn't an ancestral ruin – but Delvana is lead away to another section, and Brelyna is sorry to see her go. It's only been a day, and they barely know each other, but it's so _nice _to feel like she might have a friend among the other apprentices, even if she is a good two centuries older and more than a bit strange.

Half an hour later, Brelyna took a break, sitting amongst the stone and conjuring small lights that dance and spin like fireflies, sporadically lighting the architecture. _It would have been beautiful here, _she thought, running a hand along the faint wall carvings. Images swirl in her head of what Saarthal would have once been like, Nords bustling about their business. She assigned purpose to the halls and corridors, wondering just how many people lived underground, or if the ruin was even underground at all in the Merethic Era.

As her attention wandered elsewhere, she didn't see the figure sliding through the shadows behind her, nor the hand that hovered behind her neck. It was only when a feral growl rippled through the air and claws dug into her skin – not hard enough to pierce it, or even hurt – that she moved, letting out a frightened shriek and spinning to face her attacker, fireball at the ready. Shock dispelled the fire from her hands, and her terror turned into annoyance at the smirking Khajiit before her.

_"J'zargo," _she ground out, eyes narrowed, "I could have hit-"

Then Delvana burst into the room, staff in one hand and dagger in the other, outlined in a halo of fire and heat that left Brelyna squinting. Every piece of jewellery was shining like the sun, and the taste of hot ash and burning fungus filled the air, tinged with salt so thick it was almost enough to choke on. _"Brelyna!" _the woman shouted, eyes wild as she hunted desperately for the other mage, panic clear on her face.

"Here," Brelyna responded, summoning a light with a flick of her wrist.

"Are you alright?" Delvana asked as she stormed over, "I heard a scream and thought-"

"I'm perfectly fine," she assured the woman, resting a comforting hand on her arm. "J'zargo just decided to scare me, that's all."

With those words, the light left her, dissipating in a rush of magicka that left Brelyna dizzy, the scent of ash and wood lingering on the subterranean air. Soon there was nothing left of the grand figure that had stormed into the chamber a moment ago, merely a tired woman with a self-deprecating smile. "I apologise for my manner of entrance, but I heard your scream and thought something had happened." She sighed, sinking onto the floor, her dagger back in its sheath and her staff lying beside her on the stone. "Things tend to go wrong in these sorts of places, at least in my experience." A short, harsh bark of laughter followed those words. "Perhaps it's just me."

"I wouldn't worry about it too much. There is old magic here; it's in the air. Even if I could find any evidence of warding spells," Brelyna groused. "Most ruins and tombs have some residual energy, and it can trigger in unexpected ways. In fact, from what I've read I'm surprised there's not more here. I suppose the College has done a thorough job of cleaning the excavations site." She was well aware she was rambling, talking needlessly about things she'd only ever read about, but Delvana nodded and listened and appeared for all the world to be truly interested in what she was saying. It was certainly a change from her family, who expected so much of her magical talent but gave so little thought to what she _wanted _to do.

"It sounds like you know a bit about these things," Delvana said with a soft smile.

Brelyna shrugged. "Most of it comes from reading. I always had my nose in a book as a child, but I was always too nervous to actually go out and test what I'd learned."

"And yet here you are," Delvana replied, gesturing at the chamber, "in a Nordic ruin, assisting with an excavation project at the behest of the College of Winterhold. I'll certainly admit it's not where I thought _I _would end up, at any rate."

"Oh? Where did you expect to be, then?" Brelyna asked, unable to resist her curiosity.

The other woman deflated with that question, but responded in a quiet voice, "In Cyrodiil still, with my family."

"Oh." She had absolutely no clue how to respond to such a statement. "I'm sorry."

"It's hardly your fault," Delvana replied with a bitter smile. "Anyway, let's get out of here before any undead, daedra or other nasty things pop up. I've had enough ancient ruins for one day."

Brelyna laughed. "I can't argue with that."


	3. Chapter 3

Days at the College fell into an easy rhythm after their initial excursion to Saarthal. Classes were attended, and Brelyna found a talent for Alteration magic she didn't know existed, as well as furthering her knowledge of Illusion and Conjuration. Above all magical studies, though, she indulged her passion for ancient history. There was so little known about both the Dwemer and Falmer, and many theories about how they had lived, and how the Falmer had evolved into their current form. Slowly, Brelyna began spending more and more time in the Arcanaeum until Urag gro-Shub had to start forcibly removing her in the evenings.

"Oh please, Urag, just five more minutes!"

"No."

"But I am _this _close to finishing a chapter," Brelyna whined, eyes wide and desperate. The Orc just glared, looking pointedly at the miniscule writing in the tome lying open on the table. "Okay," she sighed, "I'm not all that close, but Falmer history is so _fascinating, _and-"

"Just take the book with you and get out of my Arcanaeum," the librarian growled.

Brelyna stared, not daring to believe her ears. "You would let me borrow it?" she asked, trying desperately to stop her voice going shrill with joy.

Urag shrugged, "I've seen how you handle my books. You're a lot more respectful with them than the other apprentices, and if the subject is that important to you, I'll allow it. However," and with this he took a step forward, looming over Brelyna, "if I find as much as a single crease in those pages, you will _never _step foot in this library again."

Brelyna nodded, swallowing, and fled the Arcanaeum like a guar on fire. Ten minutes later, she was wandering restlessly around the Hall of the Elements, debating whether to go to sleep or stay awake just a little longer and read more. Last she knew, J'zargo had dragged Onmund into some sort of practical joke, and they were running rampant in the apprentices' quarters, but that had been hours ago. She sighed, dropping onto one of the many benches lining the wall and setting the book down on her lap, fingers hooked inside the cover. She was still sitting there a few minutes later when Delvana entered the hall, followed by Arniel Gane.

The Dunmer woman whipped around, hands gesticulating wildly as she hissed something incomprehensible at the man, who did not look the least bit intimidated. Delvana frowned, wondering what they could possibly be arguing about. As far as she knew, Delvana barely ever saw the conjurer, as she professed both a lack of skill and a terrible disinterest in the art. Brelyna frowned, getting up from the bench and inching closer as quietly as she could, back to the cold stone, hoping the pillars would hide her from view.

As she got closer their voices drifted across the stone hall, distorted by echoes. "...not going to just hand it over, Arniel!" Delvana hissed, tearing her arm away from Arniel's grip. "You should know better than to ask me."

"Do you even know just what you hold? What this could mean for my research? The Tools of Kagrenac had _everything _to do with the disappearance of the Dwemer, and here you are just traipsing around the province with two of the Tools!" Arniel exclaimed, eyes wide, gesturing to the gauntlet and dagger Delvana wielded, even indoors.

Delvana seemed to deflate all of a sudden, halting to stand in the middle of the hall, turning to face Arniel and toying with the tie on the end of her braid. "Look, I know you want to solve this mystery, and believe me, I would as well. But if the last living Dwemer himself failed to find out anything of significance, I doubt you will."

Arniel stared for a moment, and Brelyna could almost _see _the wheels in his head turning and churning. "The last living Dwemer? Are you saying-"

"No. He's dead, Arniel, taken from us when Red Mountain erupted," Delvana said flatly, cutting the other mage off. "Now if you would excuse me, I should like to be alone." Arniel slunk off dejectedly, kicking the heavy door shut behind him. Brelyna bit her lip, trying to keep her laughter from escaping. Arniel was acting more like a petulant student than a lecturer, and Delvana every bit the Telvanni sorcerer, not a College apprentice.

"You can come out now, Brelyna," Delvana said softly, scaring Brelyna out of her skin. Heart hammering, she crept out from behind the shade of the pillars, wringing her hands nervously.

"How long have you known I was there?" she asked, eyes darting around the room.

Delvana smiled, chuckling, and answered, "Detect life spells are a wonderful thing. I've known the whole time; I simply didn't mind you overhearing."

Brelyna hummed noncommittally, tapping her hand against the stone wall. "Has Arniel been bothering you a lot? From the sounds of it-"

"No, no," Delvana said with a laugh, "it's not been that bad. He's just curious, which I understand. It's not every day you have a student enter the College with mythical artifacts in tow, after all."

"What _are _the Tools of Kagrenac, anyway? And what did you mean by the 'last living Dwemer'? I thought they all vanished at the same time, so how could there have been one on Vvardenfell? And-" All her words started rushing out of Brelyna's mouth in a torrential river of nonsense, questions mingling with statements and conjecture with all the grace of a stampeding herd of guar. Delvana laughed, softly touching her arm and gesturing for her to calm down. One of the many rings on her fingers glinted in the light in an oddly enticing manner, a silver moon and star shining in the dim light of the hall. "I'm sorry, I-"

"It's quite alright," Delvana assured her, laughter still evident in her voice. "I remember how I was at your age – just as curious and twice as brash! The Telvanni masters hated me, let me tell you. Finding a patron was a right pain." She smiled then, a distant look in her eyes, and Brelyna knew that it was a private smile, one she wasn't meant to understand. "Anyway, we should be getting to bed, don't you think?" Delvana looked pointedly at the great clock hanging in the hall, and Brelyna winced.

"Yes, we probably should."


End file.
